


there's a science to walking through windows

by agetwellcard



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Original Character(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Stucky endgame, sorry there is no threesome lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18891415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agetwellcard/pseuds/agetwellcard
Summary: Steve is twenty-two years old when him and Bucky finally save up enough money for art classes. Since he knows he can't have Bucky, Steve finds himself overly interested in one of the male students in the class. When the three of them start to become friends, the dynamics of Steve and Bucky's relationship is questioned and changed, and the feelings they share for one another are revealed in messy ways.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay so firstly this is stucky endgame, i swear. i just like the thought of bucky and steve finding out their feelings in the most messy way possible. also really enjoy the thought of steve having crushes on his art school friends.

His name is John.

Steve meets him on the first day of class. Steve had arrived too early and now has to awkwardly look preoccupied as his classmates eventually filter in. Bucky had agreed to meet him there after his shift ended at the docks, but he hasn't shown yet. Steve was used to feeling out of place and a bit of a loner, but he didn’t want to feel that way in this class.

He had never taken an art class before. They never had the money to spare and he couldn’t find it in himself to waste it away on something as frivolous as classes that will never probably lead to anything. It was only until Bucky agreed to take the class with him that he gave in and allowed himself this one luxury.

As students start walking in, Steve can't help but to take in each of them. Most of them are women, but there are a few men. Everyone intimidates Steve. They look like real artists somehow, and Steve barely feels like one as he fidgets with one of his pencils.

There are still ten minutes left until class starts when another student enters, and Steve looks up just in time to meet his eyes. He’s tall, with dark brown hair that needs to be cut but hangs in tight curls. He’s dressed well and has most of his belongings in his arms. He smiles a little when they catch each other’s gazes, and then bounds over to Steve. He darts his eyes down to his desk, face hot with embarrassment.

“Hey,” the man says, voice deep and gentle sounding as he motions to the free spot next to Steve. “Is this seat taken?”

Steve not sure quite how long he stares at him, but he knows it’s too long when he finally realizes what he’s said. “No,” he blurts out, and then realizes what he said. “Well, I mean, yes. Sorry. I’m actually waiting for my friend, and I told him I’d save him a spot.”

The man doesn’t seem disappointed or angry, and instead only nods his eyes and goes to turn around. It’s then that Bucky walks over, sweating and dirty from work. He dumps his things on the space next to Steve and gives the man a long look before sticking out his hand.

“I’m Bucky,” he says. “I’m the friend he’s talking about.”

The man takes his hand and smiles. “John. Nice to meet you.”

“You could always sit behind us if you wanted,” Bucky offers before slumping into the seat next to Steve and giving John a smug smile. It seems rude to Steve, but he thinks that Bucky might not even realize what he’s doing.

John doesn’t seem to mind that, either, and actually does take the free seat directly behind Steve. It’s unnerving to have him so close, and Steve isn’t even quite sure why he feels that way. Steve wants to say something to him again, to make sure he knows that he’s not an asshole, but Bucky complains about his day at work until the professor starts the class.

The class is slow at first, the professor detailing what is expected of the students and outlining the future major assignments.  Halfway through, the teacher sends out stacks of paper, and Steve quickly snags the offered stack from the student in front of him, takes two out of the pile, and then turns hallways around to offer them to John. He’s leaning back in his chair, his gaze pensive as he listens to the teacher. He has a pencil behind one of his ears, and Steve blinks at it for a few seconds too long before he clumsily drops the stack of paper on John’s desk. John’s eyes snap to him suddenly, an amused smile on his face as he takes a sheet and sends it back with a soft, “Thanks.”

Steve turns back around and feels his face go hot again. Bucky is squinting at the paper the professor’s just handed out, and doesn’t seem to notice Steve’s embarrassment thankfully.

They finish up the class with a quick sketching exercise that involves drawing the person sitting next to them. Steve’s drawn Bucky so many times that he barely has to look over at him to get things right, but he takes the excuse to stare deeply at the cleft of his chin and the curves of his lips. Bucky stares at Steve for a few seconds, only to make a few markings on his page, and then back to Steve, a deep look of concentration on his face. In the end, the two of them end up making fun of each other until the professor asks them to sketch quieter.

When they’re packing up to leave, John stops at their desks to say goodbye. “See you next week, Bucky and – “ He makes a face at Steve. “Sorry, I never got your name.”

“Steve.”

“ _Steve_ , okay,” he says. “Well, it was nice meeting you two.”

Awkwardly, Steve waves at him as he leaves, and then swiftly turns away to cringe as he picks up his things. When they leave the classroom, Bucky almost immediately says, “Kind of pretentious, don’t you think?”

“Who?”

Bucky snorts. “All of it.” He moves in closer when he asks, “You sure we want to be associating ourselves with these kind of people? Seem like the wrong kind of crowd.”

“It was your genius idea to the take the class.” Steve pushes him, but it only makes Bucky sway before he corrects his footing and puts an arm around Steve.

“I’m just kidding, Stevie.”

“Thanks, _James_.”

That night, Steve sits at the kitchen table and finishes the sketch he started of Bucky in class. When Bucky sets down two bowls of soup onto the table, Steve carefully places the pencil he’s been using behind his ear. He wonders how he looks with it, and if he exudes the same cool, casual aura that John had. When it falls into his soup, Bucky has to leave the table from laughing too hard.

***

Steve shows up to the next art class too early again. He tells himself it’s just because he’s nervous, and not because he’s hoping to run into John. Either way, he sits at the same desk he did last week and switches between mindlessly working on a sketch and looking at the door. Every few minutes a new person comes in, and Steve forces himself to look back down at his desk.

It’s only a few minutes before class, and neither Bucky nor John have showed up yet. Finally, though, someone walks in and Steve is quick to see who it is. It’s Bucky, just as disheveled as last week. He’s breathing heavy when he drops into the seat next to Steve and fumbles through his bag for his sketchbook and a pencil. “Fuckin’ hot out there,” he mumbles before looking over to Steve and running a hand through his greasy hair. Steve watches the movement almost guilty. His tanned skin has a sheen over it from sweat, and Steve can actually smell it. He swallows down wherever that thought was going to take him next and nods.

“Did you finish the assignment?” Steve asks then, eyes dropping down to Bucky’s sketchbook. It’s mostly new, and Steve hadn’t even seen him sketching in it for the past few days.

Bucky flips a few pages in and then yanks out a sheet, flapping it in front of Steve’s face with a smug smile. “Yes, mother.”

Steve is curious to see what it is that Bucky’s drawn, but before he can try to get Bucky to let him see, the teacher starts her lesson. It’s then that Steve realizes that John is still not here. The missing weight of his presence right behind Steve simultaneously calms him and riles him back up again. Where did he go? Did he drop the class?

The teacher is having them start the class with a quick warm-up sketch when the door opens and John walks in, making an apologetic face to the teacher as he makes his way to the seat behind Steve again. He looks nearly as disheveled as Bucky, bangs wet from sweat and drooping into his eyes. For an awkward second, his gaze meets Steve, but Steve is quick to look back down to his sketch, face burning.

Steve tries to actually work on his sketch, but he’s only half-heartedly working when John taps on his shoulder and quietly asks him if he has a pencil. Steve nods hastily and quickly digs through his own bag for a spare one. He had stuffed a few in last week, but now is having trouble finding them, face even hotter than before as he can feel John’s eyes on him. Finally, he finds one and hands it over, only to receive a warm smile from John in return.

Steve is spaced out for a few minutes, but eventually falls back into the class. He takes detailed notes and draws all the examples that the teacher does on her blackboard. When they do some more sketching, Bucky keeps knocking his elbow into Steve, most likely trying to get him to laugh. Steve gives him a long look since he knows that Bucky’s never been very good at paying attention to any one thing for too long.

When the teacher ends the class, Steve slowly starts to pack up his things, hoping eventually John will return the pencil. Next to him, Bucky is finishing a sketch, a look of concentration on his face. Watching him, Steve can’t quell his jealously. He’s a damn good artist. Maybe not as technical as Steve, but creative and enthusiastic. It used to kill Steve a little, that Bucky could have the looks, the smarts, and talent. Now, Steve finds it easier when Bucky is hunched over a drawing, usually only for the satisfaction of showing Steve.

Bucky drops his pencil when he’s done, and Steve takes the opportunity to knock his elbow into Bucky’s. “Hard to do my drawing when you keep elbowing me,” Steve tells him.

“Not my fault I’m left-handed,” Bucky says. “It’s you that’s the problem. If you were left-handed too we wouldn’t have this issue.”

Steve rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yeah, _that’s_ the solution.”

They’re interrupted when John clears his throat and holds out Steve’s pencil in his direction. “Thank you, really,” he says. “Had a rough day today. Didn’t even think I was going to make it to class.”

“Oh,” Steve mumbles, reaching out to take the pencil. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” Bucky blurts out, head cocked in John’s direction, like he’s just waiting for John to say something that he can make fun of.

John makes a face and then shrugs. “Some stuff with a, um, friend.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that, so all he ends up saying is, “Well, it’s a good thing you made it. Some real important stuff today.”

“Yeah, me too,” John says. His gaze on Steve feels warm, and it’s one of the few times that Steve doesn’t mind someone looking at him. Usually when someone does, Steve can see their disgust. With John, though, it’s not that way.

It’s Bucky who breaks their eye contact, scoffing and going, “I’m sure that going on about circles for twenty minutes was _real_ important, Steve.”

“Bucky, theory is important,” Steve tells him.

“Mhm, and when we had to put together that table last year, you read the instructions and didn’t do a damn thing. Me, though, I just put it together.”

“That doesn’t count! Plus, the table broke after, what, three months?”

“It’s not my fault it wasn’t good quality.”

Steve laughs and shoves him away good naturedly, only then remembering John’s presence, watching the two of them carefully. Steve gives him a tight smile and says, “See you next week, then?”

He nods. “Hopefully on time.”

Bucky gives a half-wave before him and Steve head out. They’re halfway down the street when Bucky says, “Do you like John?”

For a few seconds, Steve feels like he can’t breathe. Irrationally, he thinks that Bucky’s somehow seen right through him. Belatedly, after too much of a pause, the innocence of the question hits him. Steve shrugs. “He seems fine.” Then, after a few seconds, “Why?”

“He seems weird,” is all Bucky offers.

“You think everyone in that class is weird.”

“True,” he hums. “Especially this blond kid who can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Steve tries to shove him, but it barely makes him sway, and instead Bucky starts laughing. “There he goes again. Always getting into fights too.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll put it on my to-do list,” he says. Then, “We should go out tonight.”

“I can’t do another double date, Buck.”

“No, not like that. We can just go out together.”

Steve looks over to him, surprised. “Yeah?”

“I’ll even buy you a drink if you promise not to instigate a fight.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

Bucky laughs through his nose. “Yeah, I know. Let’s go.”

The sun is just setting as they head into the bar. It’s Bucky’s favorite, the one that is always playing loud music as people smoke and dance. It doesn’t matter how slow the bar is, Bucky always manages to find a pretty dame to dance with while Steve sits to the side and watches the smirk on Bucky’s face when he leans in and whispers something in her ear.

There is a small table in the back and Steve claims their spot as Bucky goes to the bar to order them the cheapest beer they have. Steve looks around as he waits. The dance floor is already full of people. Steve watches their feet move across the floor and wonders what it would be like to dance the way some of them do, the way that Bucky does. Steve’s only ever stepped on toes and stumbled the few times he’s danced with a dame.

He wonders if it would be different with a man. When Bucky taught Steve how to dance when Steve was seventeen, Bucky hadn’t minded when he stepped on his toes. He had laughed it off, ducking his head to rest on Steve’s shoulder. Steve looks at a couple nearest to him. He imagines the man leading him, moves confident with a hand on Steve’s waist.

Bucky breaks his daydreams when he slams down two glasses, foam sloshing over onto the table.

“Jesus, you would not believe how much they’re charging for these now,” Bucky hums before drinking half of his glass in one go.

Steve catches himself staring at Bucky’s throat when he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. Even worse, his eyes move up to watch the way he licks his glossy lips. Steve forces himself to distract himself with a drink of his own beer, the bitter taste never something he’s ever been that fond of.

He’s been feeling a little crazy lately. He can’t stop looking at Bucky and imagining things. He’s not proud of it, but he’s made some peace with it over the years. The past few weeks have been particularly hard, though. It was only two months ago that Steve had turned twenty-two, and the embarrassing weight of not having lost his virginity seem heavier than ever. He knows if he asked Bucky, he’d be able to find a willing dame somehow for him – although the odds of her being a prostitute he met out on the docks is highly possible. He refuses to ask, though, and instead sits through all of Bucky’s teasing.

He is ready to lose it, and has never cared much about waiting until marriage, but he still wants for it to mean something. Stupidly, he thinks of John, and his kind smile, and then the ongoing rumor of male art students being queer. He wonders, and that’s the real killer.

Bucky tells a dramatic work story that leads into a slew of others, and then it’s been over an hour and three beers later. Steve thinks that Bucky is just about to go and find a dame to dance with as he scans the crowd of people. His eyes stop on someone, and Steve is quick to follow his gaze only to find a man instead of a dame.

It’s John. He’s leaning against the bar listening to two other men speak, a small smile on his face. He seems relaxed and happy. His shirt is untucked and his sleeves unbuttoned too but not rolled up. He’s wearing a thin chain, too, the light glinting off of it. Steve feels entirely too jealous of his relaxed appearance, but also jealous of the two men who he’s smiling at.

“Shit,” Bucky says. “It’s that guy from class.”

“John,” Steve supplies mindlessly. He feels a little stupid, though, once he’s said it. “I mean, I think that’s his name.”

“We should invite him over.”

“Really?” Bucky had just been talking about how he thought everyone in the class was pretentious. The sudden interest in John only makes Steve nervous.

Bucky doesn’t respond, and instead stands and heads over to him. Steve watches from afar, feeling small and alone at the table. John smiles widely when he sees Bucky and looks to be introducing him to his friends. Bucky says something close to John’s ear before the two of them starts walking back to the table. Steve looks away quickly and pretends to be distracted by his drink.

Bucky pulls over a chair from the table next to them for John before taking a seat himself. He sends Steve an amused expression, and Steve thinks there might be a story in the making later. John smiles at Steve the same way he did at Bucky before saying, “Hi, Steve.”

“You come here too?” Steve asks. It’s the first thing that comes to his mind, but he immediately regrets it once it’s out of his mouth.

“Yeah, sometimes,” John says. “I like the ambiance here. It’s a good place to dance.”

“I know!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m always try to get Steve to dance but he hates it. They always play the best music here, though.”

“Were you here, like, two weekends ago? They had this really good band. I even ended up meeting them after their set.”

Steve sits back quietly and listens as Bucky and John excitedly go back and forth. It’s a little like being in the middle of Bucky and one of his dates. Instead of shallow, verging on inappropriate flirting all night, John and him talk about things that Steve can’t even relate to. He tries to throw a few words in now and then, and John listens intently when he does, but he doesn’t feel included.

Bucky must notice because he somehow manages to shift the conversation to their art class. Even though Steve is grateful for it, he also partially feels like a child being attended after sometimes. It does make the night easier, though. Steve is able to talk about his favorite artists, the art museum him and Bucky went to last fall, and anything else that manages to slip from his mouth. He savors the way that John pays attention. It reminds Steve of Bucky, and nothing like all the dames that have ignored him endlessly on bad double dates.

They end up spending too much money on drinks, and after its past midnight, they decide to call it a night. Steve feels warm and happy, and even lets Bucky put his hand on the small of his back as he leads them through the crowd and to the doors.

John runs a hand through his hair as they stand together right outside. It’s still hot out, but there is a breeze that feels good, and the band inside is slightly muffled.

“Ready to get home, Stevie,” Bucky asks, slinging an arm around Steve's shoulder. He wants to lean into it and shut his eyes, but he refuses.

He feels John’s eyes on the two of them, carefully looking back and forth between them. “Do you guys live together?”

“Yup,” Bucky says. “For a couple years now.”

“Oh.”

Steve pushes away slightly from Bucky’s touch. He realizes what this looks like. It’s always Steve, too, who sees it before Bucky does. Steve has been called a queer for years because of the way he looks and the fact that he’s never as much as dated a dame. Bucky’s never understood the taunts, but Steve knows how it looks for two grown men to still be living together. John’s eyes don’t exactly feel accusatory or judgmental, but they do seem to be searching for something, and it makes Steve feel too uncomfortable to let him figure it out.

“We’ll see you on Monday, then?” Bucky says to John, still oblivious.

“Yeah, totally,” he says. Before they can walk away, though, John adds, “Hey, look, I really appreciated tonight. I’ve been going through a hard breakup, and it was nice not think about it for a bit.”

It surprises both Bucky and Steve. Neither of them says anything for a few moments, but then Steve says, “We had a good time, too. We should go together again after class maybe.”

“Sounds good. Night, Steve. Night, Bucky.”

They walk home quietly, Bucky swaying into Steve every few steps and humming one of the songs that played under his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve thinks that maybe it will be awkward to see John again after their night out and his admission, but it isn’t. Steve always makes sure to arrive early to class, just as John does, and they spend the first fifteen minutes talking before Bucky shows up and joins them. Admittedly, Steve is sometimes disappointed when Bucky shows up. He likes talking to John alone.

Either way, the three of them always manage to get into deep conversations, or break into laughter too loud, or spend the whole night drinking at the bar and eventually John and Bucky will dance while Steve watches. Bucky usually likes having John around, but sometimes he starts acting strange and he’ll tell Steve not to invite him out after class.

Overall, it’s nice having someone else looking out for Steve besides Bucky. At the same time, Steve is forced to deal with not only his jealousy over someone else taking up Bucky’s time, but also his lingering crush on John.

And, sure, Steve’s always had a crush on Bucky, but he never thinks of it like that anymore. Bucky is a proper man, always has been, and has never had trouble finding a dame to spend the night with. Steve knows he can’t stop the feelings he has for Bucky, but he also knows that they won’t ever be anything but secret feelings.

Steve wasn’t so sure about John. The more time they spent together, whether with Bucky or not, the more Steve wondered. He had never seen him with any dames and never even seem interested with them. The only other friends he mentioned were the few men that Steve had seen him talking to that night at the bar. He spoke constantly with Steve about his political views (only when Bucky wasn’t around since he hated talking politics with Steve because he thinks Steve gets too riled up) and he leaned as liberal and progressive as he could be.

Steve can’t help getting lost in daydreams when it comes to John. He allows himself to question the lingering looks John send him, or the warm smiles and gentle touches. He wants to believe that he isn’t crazy, and that he is seeing something that John wants for him to see, and not for anyone else.

All of his thoughts and questions seemed to be put to rest one Friday night when they decided to go to the bar after class.

Bucky had spent the first half hour nearly yelling as he told a story from work earlier in the day, leaving Steve and John in stitches. Eventually, though, he had looked down to his drink and stayed quiet for longer than usual. Steve watched him carefully, wondering if he was planning on being in a mood if he drank too much.

Suddenly, though, he jumped up and announced he wanted to dance. Usually John would join him, and they find some random dames to dance with, but John stayed put. Bucky strode away unperturbed, and John and Steve watched him do his usual act before wrapping his arms around a pretty dame.

“He’s had to have danced with all of Brooklyn by now, huh?” John asks, leaning towards Steve’s good ear.

Steve shrugs. “Probably wouldn’t even remember if he asked a dame out twice.”

John laughs and downs his drink. They talk for a bit longer, even if the bar is especially loud tonight, and Steve expects for Bucky to come back eventually. When he does, sweaty and glowing, he doesn’t make a move to sit down. Instead, he smirks at the two of them and goes, “So, I’m gonna get headed out. Jane invited me over to her apartment for a drink.”

Steve rolls his eyes at the poorly concealed innuendo. “Alright, we get it.”

“You’ll be okay getting home, Steve?”

“I think I’ll manage.”

Bucky looks over at John and gives him a look that Steve interprets as Bucky asking John to get Steve home. It’s annoying, but Steve won’t admit that he’s not  upset over the thought of walking home with John.

John turns to Steve after Bucky leaves with an arm around Jane’s waist. “Does he do that a lot?”

Steve scoffs. “ _Yeah_. Always has to talk about it for days afterwards, too. It’s horrible.”

“Are you okay?” he asks then, eyebrows creased with worry.

“Like I said, I’ll be able to get home without him watching over me.”

John doesn’t say anything, but he does seems confused. Steve wants to tell him that he’s not like a dame who needs someone to walk him home. He might be small, but he’s gotten some good punches in over the years. He can look after himself.

They stay only for a bit longer, John calling it a night after catching Steve yawning into his fist. Steve doesn’t think John is actually going to walk him home, but he makes up an excuse to go in the opposite direction, and Steve doesn’t argue. Instead, he walks beside John as he quietly talks about how maybe one day he’ll go back home to Georgia and visit his family again. When Steve mentions always having lived in Brooklyn, John seems jealous.

When they get to Steve’s tenement, he doesn’t bother being embarrassed by the state of it. John has been over once, and Steve had been so anxious about the visit he had almost called the whole thing off. It was Bucky who rolled his eyes at Steve and told him John wouldn’t care, even if he had more money than them. He hadn’t, either. He barely acted like anything was wrong. He didn’t even say anything about the single bed in the bedroom, the one that Steve had tried to keep his eyes from, and instead spent the minutes after he saw it fidgeting.

“Did you want to come up for a bit?” Steve asks, the two of them lingering outside the front steps. Steve can feel his heart racing in his chest. He thinks maybe if Bucky can have some fun tonight, why can’t he? The desire for him to innocently come upstairs, to let Steve get him a glass of water, to pretend to talk before they lean in to each other and they –

“I think you’ll just fall asleep on me, Steve,” he says. “Next time, though, okay? Go and get some rest.”

Steve swallows down his disappointment and says goodnight, surprised when John pulls him into a tight hug. John is even taller than Bucky, so Steve’s forehead rests on John’s shoulder. It only shakes him up even more, being so close to John. When he gets into his apartment, he leaves his shoes at the door and heads for his bedroom.

He knows that Bucky will likely be gone for a few more hours, or not even until the morning. Steve knows he should get some rest like John said, so he slips out of his dress shirt and trousers and gets into bed. It’s warm enough in the room for Steve to shrug off the blankets, but not enough to feel uncomfortable.

He thinks of his night, mind still a little hazy from the alcohol. He remembers the sweat on Bucky’s face, and the devilish smile he gave them before disappearing with Jane. He remembers the feeling of his body pressed against John’s, and the way his hand had cradled the back of Steve’s head.

Rolling onto his stomach, Steve imagines Bucky going home with Jane. He knows the routine. Bucky’s told him what he’s done with nearly every dame he’s ever been with. He’ll kiss her by the door, lead her to the bed, and undress her. He’ll find his way between her legs, and use his tongue to make her come. He’ll kiss her then, and put on a rubber before slipping inside her. Bucky’s always been so graphic, and its only worsened the ache of desire that Steve has had for years.

He wishes he could’ve convinced John to come upstairs. He wishes they could’ve fallen into place, and John could’ve run his hands over Steve’s body, careful and considerate like he always is. He imagines telling John that he’s never fooled around before, but John wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t think it was funny or strange. He’d just put his hands back on Steve.

Slowly, Steve brings his palm up to his face to spit in, and then slips it in his pants. He licks his lips as his brain tries to imagine all that they could do. He hadn’t always been sure what two men got up to together, but Bucky had once cleared it up for him when he ranted about the men who hung around the docks. After that, Steve spent months imagining it was Bucky between his legs just like all those girls. He imagined his mouth around Steve’s cock and making him come, then putting on a rubber before slipping into Steve.

Now, though, instead of just thinking about Bucky with shame, Steve could imagine John. He thinks of touching his chest and running his hands further down his skin until they found his bulge in his briefs, just like the ones Bucky has on some mornings.

Steve turns his head and presses it into the pillow, Bucky’s scent filling his nose. He used to feel bad about this, touching himself in their shared bed, but he’s somehow managed to accept it over the years. He’s sure that Bucky has probably done the same, and the thought only makes Steve feel even hotter.

Steve is almost there as he thinks of the morning two weeks ago when he had awoken to Bucky pushed against his back, his hard dick pressed against Steve. He imagines if he would’ve pushed back, just a little, just enough to –

There’s the sound of the door lock being opened and then Bucky stumbling in. Steve is quick to pull his hand from his pants and lie on his side, hoping that Bucky will think he’s asleep. It takes a few minutes, but eventually Bucky noisily enters the room and undresses. He trips a few times in his uncoordinated dance before falling into bed.

“Stevie,” he whispers. “Are you awake?”

Steve gives in, curious to know how his night went. “Hard not to be when you’re so loud.”

“Sorry.”

He expects more, but Bucky doesn’t say a thing. “How as your night?”

Bucky yawns. “Fucking good. She was exactly what I needed. Was a real good kisser and tasted so sweet.”

“You shouldn’t talk about her like that, Buck.”

“Sure.”

Again, Steve expects for him to keep going, and give Steve all the details. He doesn’t, though, only breathes loudly next to him. For a few seconds, Steve thinks he’s asleep.

“Did you know that John is a queer?” Bucky asks then, voice sounding more sober than before.

Steve stills, shocked and confused. He doesn’t dare to move, like maybe it’ll give him away too. “No,” Steve says slowly.

“He told me a week ago,” Bucky says. “Said that the breakup was with a man.”

“Oh.” The thought is jarring. John is like Steve, but he was also in a relationship, just like a man and woman. It sounds absurd to Steve, and maybe he’s always assumed that his queer thoughts could only extend to sex because anything outside of that would be an even crazier daydream – or worse, a death wish.

“Do you mind that? That he’s a queer?” Bucky asks.

Steve feels his throat tighten. Somehow, even in the wake of knowing someone else is like him, he feels even more ashamed about himself. Before Bucky had walked in, Steve had been touching himself in their bed, smelling Bucky on his pillow, imagining them touching. Does he mind that John is a queer? What a fucking joke of a question, Steve thinks.

“No. Do you?”

Bucky doesn’t answer at first. He sighs deeply then, and finally says, “No.”

Steve knows that Bucky is probably still a little drunk, and that it’s not much of an answer, but it almost makes Steve feel like crying. He’s always known his feelings for Bucky were forbidden and perverted, but he never thought much about Bucky making peace with the thought that Steve was queer. Steve had always hoped he would end up with a dame, and that he would never have to tell Bucky.

“Goodnight, Steve,” Bucky whispers before rolling over.

Steve stays where he is, conflicted and resolved all at once.

***

Bucky never mentions John being queer again. There are no snide jokes or raised eyebrows after whatever John says. Bucky has never done any of that before, not even to the queens down at the docks, but Steve’s always been worried that he would. He thought that Bucky would only accept their existence when they were far away, and not sleeping in the same bed as him. John was one of their closest friends, though, and Bucky didn’t seem to mind him at all.

They still talk before class starts, and get drinks afterwards, and John comes over their apartment and they sketch while the radio plays. Any of Bucky’s lingering strangeness about going out with John ends, and Steve wonders if it was because of John’s admission.

Steve also wonders why it was Bucky that John told his secret to and not Steve. The two of them have had deep conversations in the past, and Steve thinks that John could’ve just as easily told Steve. At the same time, Steve’s never told John about his own matching secret. He’s never thought of telling anyone – except maybe Bucky, but even that seemed off the table most days – and assumed he was most likely going to the grave with it.

The more Steve thinks of admitting it to John, the better it seems. Although the thought of telling him makes Steve feel sick, he also thinks maybe it could be nice if someone knew, and that it wasn’t just him. He could ask John if he still felt things for dames like Steve did. He could ask if he knew anyone else like them besides the man he was seeing.

After spending a week mulling it over, spending too much time off in his head thinking about telling John, he finally decides that he will. The next time they can get some time alone, Steve is going to tell him.

Once he finally gets the resolve to tell John, he barely sees him. Instead, the semester nears its end as Thanksgiving approaches. Class is canceled for a few days, so Bucky and Steve do as they always do. They get dressed up on Thanksgiving morning and head out to the Barnes’s apartment.

Bucky’s family is always loud and happy. Steve’s been invited to Bucky’s family get-togethers for years, and so was Steve’s mother before she passed. It didn’t matter what type of problems Steve was going through, he always managed to let them fade away when he was with the Bucky’s family. With no other family, Steve was grateful for having been adopted into theirs.

Before they leave, Winnie makes a point to pull out the family photobook. Everyone crowds behind her as she flips through the photos. It starts with a photograph of Winnie and George’s wedding. Steve can’t help but to look to Bucky and then the photograph again. The young George Barnes has Bucky’s chin, and his eyes, and the same smile.

There are a few of Bucky as a baby. Steve’s seen them before, but it’s been several years. Now, he smiles fondly at the photographs as Winnie tells them about Bucky as a baby. On the next page, there is a photograph of Bucky and Steve as kids. They are just in the middle of the street smiling with missing teeth. Bucky has his arm around Steve’s shoulder. Sometimes, Steve wishes he had his own copy of the photograph.

Winnie sends them home with too many leftovers and about five hugs each before they can leave at the end of the night, the sun having already gone down. They walk in the dark and don’t say much for the first half of the walk. Steve’s thinking about Winnie’s offer to draw some portraits of some of the women she works with. It would be good to have some money again. Steve doesn’t get much work as it is outside of the newsstand.

They round a corner and Bucky says, “You know, Becca still has a crush on you.”

Steve ducks his head, embarrassed. “She doesn’t.”

Bucky laughs. “Sorry to break it to you, but she does. Has for years.”

It’s true, Steve supposes. She’s only two years younger than Steve, so it’s not that absurd. They spent much of their childhood together, just as Steve and Bucky had. She had always tagged along to their adventures, and Steve had never minded. Now, the crush seems obvious. Then, though, Steve would have never noticed. Sometimes it’s hard for Steve to admit that someone would actually have a crush on him.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Bucky says, looking into the horizon ahead. “If you wanted to see her.”  

“No. I mean, I love her but – it’s not like that. She’s like my little sister, too. It would just be – “

“Steve, I get it.” Bucky is laughing then. “Just don’t tell her that. Might break her heart.”

They both know that Steve wouldn’t. If anything, he’ll let it simmer for a few years until Becca finds someone else, someone who will actually be the right kind of man for her. She deserves someone much better than Steve.

“I told John about you coming along with me tonight,” Bucky says then. “He asked me if my parents knew.”

Steve squints at Bucky. “Knew what?”

Bucky looks up to the sky and laughs then. “Steve, he thought we were together.”

It’s not like it’s the first time someone thought that Bucky and Steve were more than just friends. None of them have outright said it, though. Usually, Steve was able to correct the assumptions before they got too far, or Bucky would simply go out with a new dame and the rumors would be nothing more than that, rumors.

The thought of John coming out and saying it makes Steve feel uncomfortable, like he’s been watched under a microscope for months without even realizing. It makes sense, though. He never questioned Steve and Bucky’s relationship, and he was queer himself. He understood.

“Well,” Steve says slowly, refusing to make eye contact with Bucky. “He’s not the first.”

Bucky slows down beside Steve. “What?”

“It’s not really that surprising, right? Sometimes we just – I don’t know, Buck. Others have thought it, though.”

“We just what?”

Steve struggles so find something to say. He’s scared that maybe all of his reasons are just in Steve’s head, and that his feelings for Bucky will be too obvious. “We still live together and we – Buck, we still share the same bed. We’re practically always together and neither of us has ever had a relationship for very long.”

Bucky is staring at him, eyebrows creased. He looks hurt, and it kills Steve.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve assures him. “It’s me. People have always thought I wasn’t right.”

“ _Steve_.” Bucky has stopped walking, and is now just looking at Steve with a worried expression. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Steve wants to believe him. He wishes he didn’t think the things he wanted made him wrong. They did, though, and everyone could see right through him.

“I don’t care what they think,” Steve says. “I don’t care if they think I’m – _queer_.” He stumbles over the word. He’s avoided it for years. Saying it out loud seems too real. He wants to admit it to Bucky right then and there. And maybe Bucky would never see him the same, but at least he would know.

Steve can’t do it. He’s never had issues running towards troubles all his life, but it’s right now that he can’t even say a few words.

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a few long seconds. He finally starts walking again. Once he’s ahead of Steve, he says, “I told John that we weren’t, so you don’t have to worry.”

Steve swallows thickly and nods his head. They walk home and go to bed, their bodies as far apart from each other as they can manage.


End file.
